


ghost in your arms

by skittykitty



Category: Who Killed Markiplier? (Web Series)
Genre: Gen, Isolation, Memory Loss, POV Second Person, References to Depression, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-08-16 03:03:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20174323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skittykitty/pseuds/skittykitty
Summary: You follow behind Damien as he collects firewood, an unseen specter.





	ghost in your arms

**Author's Note:**

> So this is totally an unoffical sequel to my other fic "dig up her bones (but leave the soul alone)"

It was a new day. There were thousands of possibilities of what could happen today, and you had all of twenty four hours to achieve anything you wanted for this day.

Damien had gotten up earlier than usual today, you noticed after standing up. The fire was beginning to go out, Damien was probably out for firewood. Even if you had plenty of firewood the poor guy just needed something to do.

He needed to ignore… something.

You couldn’t remember, but it couldn’t be that important if you had forgotten it.

You waited for Damien, waited for your anchor to return to your sight. Without him you would’ve floated off into space, you knew. He was what kept you grounded, kept you_ real._

You threw a fresh log into the dying fire, watching the weak flames licking at the new log. It slowly grew more and more powerful as it consumed those lower than him.

_(Dark eyes flashed in front of you, as a man dressed in a long red robe began to descend the staircase. “Welcome, welcome, one and all! My name is Markiplier!”_

_He glitched forward, staring into your eyes with a feral grin on his face. “Now, this night,” he growled, staring at you with deadly intent in his eyes. “It’s not all about poker. It’s not about_ me.”

_He was getting closer, but you couldn’t move._

_“It’s all about_ you.”

_A dead body slammed to the ground in front of you, replacing Mark with a body twisted and broken.)_

You blinked back into existence in the winter-laden forest. You didn’t know how you got there, you had just been inside of the cabin, why were you out here in the middle of _nowhere?_

Snow crunched under heavy boots as Damien came into view, heaving an ax on one shoulder as he dragged a partially filled sled behind him.

He was hard at work.

You shouldn’t bother him.

You walked into the forest before he could notice you.

* * *

The forest was silent before you. Nothing stirred, nothing so much as dared to _breathe._

It was as if there was a fierce predator roaming the woods, threatening all of the prey in the area.

You weren’t prey, you would not bow to this.

_(He was a suspect. Even if smiled and called you a friend that was all he was. A suspect._

_And worse, a murder suspect.)_

* * *

You reappeared beside Damien as he sat in the cabin, alone.

Celine had probably left a bit ago, out to do whatever it is she did. You never asked her, you… never _talked_ to her.

How did you even know she was here?

You had never once actually seen her. She had always left right before you showed up.

Damien never talked about her,_ so how did you know?_

* * *

Damien was asleep, he was… _always_ sleeping when you came back. He never snored, never filled the room with sound.

When he was asleep the only sound was of the burning fire. All would be calm while he slept, until the fire began to die.

The firewood was_ right there._ You could feed the fire, you _could._

You always _could_ do something but you never did.

If you did it, you knew everything would change.

* * *

The world was still, the house never so much as creaked while Damien was asleep. Nothing wanted to take the chance of stirring Damien from his slumber, it seemed.

The fire didn’t even crackle as it died out, the light slowly fleeing from the room as night time swallowed the room in darkness.

Your mind was a storm, a cacophony of noise as memories previously forgotten rushed to the forefront of your mind.

_(“It was an accident!” Blood covering your palms as you stare up at him. At your friend. At your_ killer.)

You stumbled away from the dying fire, hands clutching at your head. Everything _hurt_ so much. Your forehead felt as if it was on fire.

_(“You have a choice here,” she was saying, but no. You never had a choice. Not really.)_

You screamed, but Damien didn’t seem to hear you.

No one would ever hear you.

* * *

Damien was a source of life to the woods, you noticed nowadays. You had been blind before, driven past the edge of sanity by loneliness.

Nothing in here reacted to your presence. The snow didn’t crunch under your feet, the fire didn’t burn you,_ Damien couldn’t see you._

Did you even exist?

Based on the memories that were tearing at your skull, you had once existed. You had had a life, had friends.

_(Damien was your_ friend, _he was always nice to you. What had you done to deserve this?)_

You couldn’t take it anymore.

You ran outside of the cabin, running from your responsibilities, from all that held you back,_ you ran from Damien._

* * *

Trees surrounded you, blocking you into a small meadow. Untouched snow coated the ground, giving the impression of purity.

You were a ghost in this world. You could influence none of the actions anyone would commit, you could only watch as an unbiased spectator.

Sitting alone in a snowy meadow you realized something.

You… hated this.

You just wished… for one _moment_… for some peace.

You hadn’t slept once the whole time you had been here, you realized.

_You were so tired._

* * *

You woke up from your nap to thunder.

The whole world was shaking, trees were falling down, and the world was cracking open.

So this was the end?

This would be your end, and you welcomed it with open arms.

* * *

You woke up in an endless void to two voices arguing.

This would be how you spent the rest of eternity.

Alone and ignored.


End file.
